The adventure of my heart began some time ago without me taking much notice. I felt a slight tightness and a minor pain when I really over-exerted myself. The feeling was mild and almost instantly went away when I slowed down, just a little. It was most noticeable when I was travelling at high altitudes, most recently during my trip to Denver. I justified the discomfort due to my age and the altitude. At my normal speed, I continued to outpace those around me who were half my age.
After my mild bout with COVID earlier this year this feeling seemed to appear a little more frequently. When I let Janis know I thought it was time to get checked out she of course was alarmed and instantly kicked things into gear and a rapid chain of events began to unfold.
A few days later we visited our family doctor, who ordered a series of tests and referred us with an ‘URGENT’ notation to a cardiologist for a more thorough exam. A week later the cardiologist showed concern about what she heard and saw and provided an ‘URGENT’ order for a treadmill stress test. I continued to feel perfectly fine and continued my routine, with bike rides and normal shop work.
That Friday, I got up extra early to drive myself to the Abbotsford hospital for the stress test, intending to be home by noon, and then continue with my Friday routine. The treadmill test really gave me a workout but went well and I thought I had passed with flying colours. The technicians conducting the test obviously thought otherwise. They instructed me to immediately lie down on the gurney and one rushed out of the room to get a doctor. The doctor examined my EKG reading, whipped out his cellphone and snapped a bunch of pictures while excitedly exclaiming he had never seen anything like it in his twenty years as a doctor. I felt perfectly fine but he informed me I wasn’t going to be allowed to go home. I was immediately admitted to the hospital and was off to the Cardiology Care Unit for an indefinite stay while they figured out what was going on with my heart. I phoned Janis to inform her and the family of the sudden change of plans. Our adventure of the heart had begun in earnest.
Staying in a hospital bed is something I’ve experienced only once in my life, back when I was about five years old to get my tonsils out. Routine checkups and tests through the years always assured me that I was in perfect health, and in fact, seemed younger than my years indicated. Even the recent tests of the last week and the first days in the hospital revealed all of my vitals were excellent.
Early the following week I experienced my first ambulance ride as I travelled about fifty miles into New Westminster to get an angiogram. I had watched some videos in the previous days so I knew what to expect and what to watch for. I declined sedation as I wanted to experience this adventure wide awake and alert. I wasn’t disappointed. The giant TV monitor showed the X-ray image of the catheter as it travelled through my arm and into my heart. As the skilled doctor explored, I was a witness in real-time to the serious blockages - nine in all. I knew the reality before the doctor informed me. Stents, a relatively easy and quick fix was not an option for me. I was an instant candidate for open-heart, bypass surgery. The good news is that everything else about me was perfectly fine. My blood pressure was normal, my cholesterol was fine, I wasn’t overweight nor did I have any other underlying conditions.
I was to remain in the hospital until the surgery could be done, fully wired so they could monitor my condition in real-time. Daily tests became routine and included electrocardiograms, echocardiograms, x-rays and blood tests along with regular chats with the nurses and doctors. I still felt perfectly fine and was able to productively fill my days with visits from family and friends. I became known to the nurses as the ‘walker’. Although I had to reduce my normal pace and closely watched the monitors on my route around the CCU I logged between eight and ten thousand steps each day. I also kept my mind occupied as I drew in my sketchbooks and on my iPad. Life was as normal as it possibly could be through those long days.
Back at home Peter, Becke and the crew took care of business. I received daily updates and pictures. Janis spent most of her time keeping my spirits up and making sure I lacked for nothing.
I shared a room with Bal, who was in a similar predicament. We constantly joked with the nurses, compared our stats as if it were a contest and quickly earned a reputation as the ‘fun room’.
As a family, we remained hopeful and were extremely thankful we had caught this silent killer disease before it created a catastrophe. I was in a safe place and surrounded and cared for by gentle and kind people. The doctors and nurses were informative and helpful. All of this made the experience an unexpected adventure without a doubt.
When Henry & Juniper visited very apprehensively, particularly distraught by the visible leads attached to my chest and the IV catheter in my wrist. I explained to them that this hospital visit would soon make me well once more, with more energy than ever to play with them once I returned home. The kids each drew me a picture to cheer me up and encourage me on this journey. Juniper drew a picture of herself up in the playhouse and me on the ground ready to catch her. Henry drew me as the ‘grampa horse’ with him perched on my back - ‘riding for a very, very long time because I would soon be totally well once more.’ Then it was time to play with the fancy bed controls and have a little fun. My neighbour Bal, behind the curtain, separating our beds, especially enjoyed our shenanigans.
Because I was generally in good shape, aside from my heart, I was offered an opportunity to travel to a distant hospital with a much shorter waiting list than the three Cardiac Specialty Units in Vancouver. We happily accepted and a few days later I experienced a much longer ambulance ride to the Royal Jubilee Hospital in Victoria on Vancouver Island (a five-hour trip) to undergo the operation. Despite my encouragement, the ambulance attendants assured me there was absolutely no need for a siren or lights.
My surgery was scheduled for Friday, three days later, but due to an emergency (someone else who thankfully did survive) I was rescheduled for the following Tuesday. In the waiting period, Janis & I talked to an array of doctors, surgeons and the anesthesiologist team who carefully explained what they were about to do. We received a tour of the cardiac intensive care unit where I would come out of surgery and were given reading materials and videos to help us understand what to expect before and after the surgery. Tuesday morning, DAY ZERO, the nurse and aide had me up extra early for final preparations. Then, I was off to the operating room for the big event. I was impressed as I was wheeled into the giant operating room, chock full of amazing machines, bright lights, equipment and a large team of skilled people. A new high-flow catheter was inserted into my wrist and within seconds of the first drugs being administered, I was out and oblivious to what transpired after that.
I woke up about six hours later, very groggy and definitely under the influence of some powerful ‘happy drugs’. I remember a brief visit from Janis but little else. I was happy to simply be alive. The skilled surgeons had ‘harvested’ veins from my right leg and grafted them onto my heart, performing open heart surgery and a six-graft bypass. On the outside, I had a nine-inch ‘scratch’ (as Henry called it) down the centre of my chest and a thirty-inch-long scar running down my right leg. It was held together by ninety-four staples which are to be removed in the coming week. DAY ONE is definitely a blur as the medical team weaned me off the powerful drugs and onto a couple of Tylenols every few hours. Amazingly, they had me standing for a couple of long minutes, steadied by my nurse. as they changed my bed. DAY TWO I felt much better and I was sitting in a chair for my first meal. Just before noon, all of the tubes were removed and I was transferred back to the Royal Jubilee Hospital Coronary Care Unit I already knew so well. Under the doctor’s orders, I made my first tentative laps of the unit, walking for the first time. DAY THREE was even better as I felt stronger and even more confident. The walker was left behind as I made multiple trips around the unit with Janis by my side. DAY FOUR proved to be test day. A physical therapist carefully observed me as I walked my laps around the unit and then I climbed and descended twenty-five stairs while maintaining a conversation with him. I was of course carefully monitored throughout the exercises. He and the doctors declared me fit to make the five-hour trip home the very next day. The twenty-four-day ‘hospital’ chapter of my recovery had come to an end. I was more than delighted to be going home at last. Janis was my caregiver and chauffeur as we travelled to the ferry, made the ninety-minute channel crossing to the mainland and drove the last sixty miles home.
It’s been six days since our return - DAY ELEVEN since my surgery. I get stronger and feel better each and every day, under the watchful and loving care of Janis, Becke, Peter and the rest of our family. Each day I walk a number of times, resting appropriately in between. My walking journeys of course take me to the back of our property to visit the shop regularly to peek in on the crew and offer advice and encouragement. I will not be allowed to drive, ‘do real work’ or lift anything more than five pounds for another four weeks when I visit my cardiologist to get her OK.
My long-term prognosis is excellent. I had been functioning normally on what the doctors estimated to be about fifty-five percent capacity of my heart. That is now restored to be one hundred percent. The future is bright! Imagine the possibilities! This is the exciting adventure of my heart!
